


Ficlets

by IntelligentAirhead



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntelligentAirhead/pseuds/IntelligentAirhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fics that don't really have anything to do with one another, but nonetheless submit to enough tropes that they deserve to be tied together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snow

Spock will never admit it, Jim thinks as they march together through the snow, but he is holding a grudge against frozen water. Tagging a few feet behind the Vulcan means that Jim is not obligated to hide the smirk that is crossing his face. 

Spock probably thinks he hadn’t spoken loud enough for Kirk’s oh-so-inferior human ears to pick up on his words, but it was an illogical move on his part. Jim liked to keep a running count of how many times he could say Spock was the illogical one from the comfort of his own mind, only to be revealed in an over the top gesture that would leave him reeling. For now, however, Kirk is covering his mouth, attempting to muffle the laughter bubbling up at the fact that Spock is cursing under his breath.

He takes back everything he ever said regarding the matter; Spock and Bones talking was the best thing that ever happened, if only for the novelty of a Vulcan muttering the occasional-

"Damn." Spock looks down at the finicky tricorder in his hands once more, as if his eyebrow will intimidate it into submission. 

"Look, Spock," Jim starts, recovering some of the distance between him and his XO, “it’s not that big of a deal. We’re packed in more insulation than some of the enterprise’s internal-"

"Captain, you are being hyperbolic."

"Hey, don’t interrupt me when I’m being soothing and Captain-esque!"

"That is neither a word nor a descriptor," Spock deadpans. Jim rolls his eyes. “What I was saying was," he pauses pointedly, cupping a hand to his ear. Spock arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Whatever. Anyway, I was saying that I have heat packs in my bag, we have way more food than we really need, and the magnetic field thing that you’re so infatuated with will clear up in no time. Besides, the cave you found earlier is right there," he finishes, flourishing his arm backwards in the general direction of the cave. 

"Captain, you have as much data on the fluctuations in the magnetic field as I do, and I know for a fact that you have the ability to parse it on your own. My interest in it does not render me ‘infatuated’. I simply find it intriguing."

Kirk whistles. “Damn. It must really be pissing you off if it doesn’t warrant your patented ‘fascinating’," he drawls.

"I feel no enmity towards a force that has no sentience and therefore no ability to conspire against us. To do so would be-" Jim cuts him off with a groan. 

"No, you don’t get to play the ‘but Jimmy it’s not logicool to dislike things at all, much less things that don’t have will’ card. I know full well how much you don’t want to be in the snow. You could have at least played along and built a snowman with me. Well, that, or let me use some of the firewood to make bases for the ears for snow-Spock."

There’s a moment of silence as they both ponder how someone responsible for four hundred and thirty lives and a ship that faces danger and diplomacy as a matter of course manages to act like a five year old approximately fifty-seven point sixty-four percent of the time. Well, Kirk’s pretty sure that’s what Spock is thinking. Awkwardly, they begin to move forward once more.

However, when Spock does finally speak up, it’s with no small amount of confusion. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell, but this is Spock, and if Jim couldn’t read his first officer, who could?

"Logicool," Spock inquires, the word a question. Kirk laughs, his exhalation crystallising in the air like his own personal cloud. “It’s word play, Spock."

"I can think of numerous situations where play would be a befitting suffix, yet I am having trouble seeing how one would derive enjoyment by combining two words with vastly separate meanings."

"Man, how do you survive conversations with Uhura? Scratch that, how can you have any interest in linguistics and not be completely psyched about the mutability of language?"

Spock inclines his head after a moment of thought. “I concede your point, Captain."

"It’s Jim. You always call me Captain when we’re on the away team or on the bridge and it’s really fucking annoying. There is quite literally no one here besides you and me. We could have sex on the snow men and no one would care."

Spock gives the Vulcan equivalent of a sigh, staring at some point in the distance. “It is best to keep a professional distance when in the presence of others, or at least the illusion of such distance. If we did not follow the same guidelines during this mission, we would just be encouraging ourselves to be lax in the future."

"So I don’t even get a kiss?"

"We’re wearing gloves, Captain."

"You’re mean and evil, and I hope your tricorder is capturing that because holy shit that’s cool." Jim points towards a glowing, colourful phenomenon in the sky that looked much like the auroras borealis and australis of Earth. 

"This entire planet appears to be well below the temperature mark that most would consider ‘cool’, Captain. In regards to your wish for me to record this, the tricorder remains affected by the magnetic interference."

"I swear to God I’m going to grab you by the ass and pull you back to the cave if you don’t call me Jim."

Spock arches his eyebrow of doom, and suddenly Kirk knows exactly what’s coming.

"Is that a threat, Captain?"

"Yep, you’re going back to the cave now. No more readings for you. You blew it, and now you can’t get the candy, mister. I’m going to sit here with this tricorder and fiddle with it until it works. Meanwhile, you need to move your booty back to the cave," Jim proclaims.

Spock cocks his head, affixing Jim with an unimpressed look. “Captain, if you wished to spare me from the temperature, you should have simply ordered me to wait in the cave to begin with.

Jim feels himself flush and is pleased when he realises the cold has reddened him already. “I have no such intentions, Mister Spock. However, it is my order that you return to the cave this minute."

"That is physiologically impossible, as it would take at least three minutes for me to reach the temporary domicile at a full sprint."

"One day your sass will kill me, Spock. You will have killed your Captain with your razor wit. How will that feel then, hm?"

"I would again cite the physiological improbabilities of such an event occurring, but I believe you are making an attempt at being facetious," Spock replies. 

"We’ll teach you yet," Jim says, smiling at his first officer. 

So even though Spock is disobeying his order, facetious or no, they continue to watch the aurora weave through the sky; and if Jim traces Spock’s gloved hand with his own, well that’s just the way of things.


	2. Invisible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Insert angsty transporter incident here

It took a few minutes for Jim to realise no one could see or hear him. He always thought that if something as awesome as being invisible happened to him, he’d be bright enough to take immediate advantage of it; however, he now had to admit that he had spent quite a while contributing to the cliché of thinking that everyone was in on some absurd joke. 

The first ten minutes found him shaking his head at his three crew members in the transporter room. He stepped off the transporter pad and eyed them curiously. "Why do you all look like Scotty shoved your dog out of an airlock? We should be celebrating! It’s not every day that we don’t have to violate the prime directive to save not one, not two, but three planets! Come on guys, that’s pretty damn impressive."

No one was looking at him. They continued to stare at the empty space on the transporter pad that he had just vacated. A pale-faced engineering ensign stood at the controls, his jaw tightening. Colfer, Jim remembered. He was writing a piece on carrying capacity. Colfer brought a fist to his face and wiped at her eyes. “I swear I did everything right. It shouldn’t have- couldn’t have been unable to reassemble him."

"Uh oh, what happened," Kirk asked, moving towards the ensign before peeking at the controls over his shoulder. “Chances are, we can fix it. We’re on a roll today." Colfer didn’t react.

"Hey, anyone wanna tell me why this kid is scared out of his pants?" Jim rolled his eyes as everyone continued to ignore him. Sulu, still clutching the plant samples he had gathered from the planet’s surface, spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “He may have spent too long in the matter stream. He may not have left yet." I’Reigh, a science ensign who had been arguing with him earlier as to whether stealing plants was a punishable offence, covered her mouth and began shaking.

Colfer nearly slammed the console in front of him with his palm, stopping himself just before the strike landed. “I stabilised him! I know I did. By all rights, he should be in this room. The Captain should be right there."

"Uh, no," Kirk chuckled in surprise, “I should be right here. Y’know, because I am." No one laughed. No one reacted. 

Sulu closed his eyes tightly before straightening. In a stronger voice he stated, “I’ll inform Commander Spock that he is now acting captain. Colfer, you should try to get Scotty up here to see if we can get the Captain back."

"Like hell you are. That’s enough, guys. I bet you had fun giving ol’ Cap’n Jimbo a heart attack, but it’s time to drop it and let me get back to work."

No one responded. Sulu began to make his way towards the bridge. I’Reigh spoke up before he left, however. “Lieutenant, wouldn’t it be faster to use a comm unit?" Jim thought he heard her add, “safer too," under her breath. Sulu exhaled, his shoulders slumping before tightening into a strong, hard line. 

"It is better to deliver this kind of news in person."

"There is no fucking news, Sulu. I’m right here!" Kirk tried to grab his friend’s shirt and yank him backwards, but his fingers passed through the fabric. That is, they would have, had he been able to see his fingers do so. He looked down at himself for the first time since he had beamed aboard, and he saw nothing but the floor. 

That wasn’t right. He could feel the fabric as his hands passed through it. He could feel his hands tightening into fists. He could hear himself breathing, loud and harsh above the hum of the ship and the quiet babble of voices. He could see everything around him. He should be fine. He should be able to look down and see his hands, torso, or at least his legs. He couldn’t, though. 

He could handle this, he thought. He could fix this. He clenched his teeth and followed Sulu, soundless footsteps falling into nonexistence as he marched.

Uhura smiled as Sulu walked onto the bridge. “Well that’s a nice find. Tell me, is that plant sentient, or are you hugging it like that because it requires constant pressure?" The smile fades as she takes in Sulu’s hard expression. “Where’s the Captain?"

Spock turns and takes in Sulu’s visage, arching an eyebrow in what Jim interprets as concern, but would likely be construed as stoic displeasure by most. "Yes, where is the Captain, Lieutenant?"

Sulu sets his plant down before folding his hands behind his back, ramrod straight.

"Woah, chill there, Sulu. If you start to turn into Spock, I’m ejecting myself from this ship," Jim joked. 

"Captain James Tiberius Kirk-" “Please tell me that isn’t how people will refer to me when I’m dead. That’s just going to sound stupid." "-has been lost in the matter stream while being beamed aboard."

Spock dropped all expression by the time the word lost had finished crossing Sulu’s lips. “Have you contacted Lieutenant Commander Scott so that he may correct this?"

Jim snorted. Apparently trying was out of the question. He almost felt sorry for Scotty. Then again, simply trying meant that he’d never be able to be heard, seen, or touched again. Success would mean a whole lot more.

"Ensign Colfer was requesting his aid when I left the transporter room."

"Noted. Inform him that he is to report to me on this matter at regular intervals. You may see to your plant samples afterwards, Lieutenant."

Sulu opened his mouth to say something more, but stopped. He nodded at Spock before picking up his plant once more and leaving the bridge. Kirk watched him leave, rocking on his heels. 

An hour later, the shift was over, and Kirk had almost given up his efforts to catch the attention of anyone on the bridge. Still, he followed Spock. “Spock. Can you hear me? Please tell me those ears are actually good for something. You’re a touch telepath. Touch me and tell me you can fucking hear me!"

Finally, they arrived outside of Spock’s quarters. “Look at me. See me. Say anything, please."

Spock turned to his door and didn’t respond. As they walked into his room, Jim realised that the enveloping warmth that usually emanated from the walls was absent. Jim couldn’t feel the warmth. He touched the palms of his own hands and felt the usual sensation of skin against skin, though none was there. The warmth, however, was absent. 

Foregoing his meditation mat, Spock lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Jim."

Jim raced to the bed, attempting to grab Spock’s arm, but his hand slipped through. "Spock? Spock, tell me that you can hear me!" Spock didn’t respond, continuing to watch the ceiling absently. 

"Spock, please. Tell me that I exist," Jim pleaded, his voice a murmur, as he touched Spock’s hand lightly, stroking his fingers with so gentle a touch that he felt them barely dip into the surface.

Spock couldn’t hear him, so logically, he could not answer.


End file.
